My roommates gathered around as I unfolded the papers: a summons to appear in the Superior Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. It listed all the things we had done the night before. What was this all about? How had the police known?

I was a terrified 17-year-old freshman, 2,000 miles from home. We all stood there, paralyzed with fear.

Then the door burst open again. It was Don MacMillan, who lived across the hall.

“What’s wrong, guys? You look like someone just died.”

We tried to explain, but MacMillan, who lived in the Boston area, looked more and more worried.